I stood over her body, rage and terror stealing the breath from my lungs. Her clothes were caked with mud, her cheeks mascara-streaked with tears of panic, the small crimson blotch too insignificant to be the cause of death. A single bullet guided by fate, front to back with the briefest rendezvous at the heart. Her face paled as blood trickled onto the railroad tie and down the gravel embankment. “They probably just meant to scare her.” Alex was standing behind me, grief etching lines...